


The Dark Lord's Exile

by Dark_Callisto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Callisto/pseuds/Dark_Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Lord Voldemort's POV during his thirteen year exile. Read the teaser and also please read the notes at the end of the chapter for more information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Lord's Exile

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made.

**Chapter 1**

**October 31, 1981**

The Dark Lord Voldemort looked at the green-eyed boy in silent contemplation. The so-called prophecy child. They say that this mere _child_ had the power to vanquish him. _Him!_ The most powerful and feared Dark Lord to have ever lived in the whole of Wizarding history. The very idea of it was laughable.

No matter. The babe wouldn't be breathing any longer. The child burbled softly and stared at him with knowing green eyes. As if it _knew_ what was about to happen.

 _Such a waste,_ Voldemort mused. The child would be powerful, no doubt. After all, it was the scion of the Potter bloodline. The Potters were disgustingly light but all of them had been undoubtedly powerful. It was clearly apparent from the lack of squibs produced in their line.

However, if he gave this child to some inner-circle Death Eater of his, they would groom him to be a perfect servant for him. It would bring him immense satisfaction to see a child who was _supposed_ to vanquish him _grovel_ at his feet _begging_ for any scraps of favour he might be inclined to show. Oh yes, it would bring him much satisfaction.

Voldemort closed his eyes to savour the sweet enjoyment that little idea had brought him and cackled softly.

But no matter. He did not want to leave any loose ends. He hated loose ends and this child _would_ be a loose end if he didn't kill it now. He did not want to leave any room for other people to doubt his power. His power had to be _absolute_.

In a strange moment of lucidity, the Dark Lord gazed into the unblinking emerald eyes and whispered in a soft sibilant hiss, "I wish we could have met under different circumssstancesss, Harry Potter."

The little emerald eyed boy would remember these words and a flash of green light for many years to come.

Even as the Dark Lord raised his bone-white wand, he felt a feeling of apprehension settle in his gut. But he was never one for hesitation, so he tightened his grip on the wand and intoned, _"Avada Kedavra !"_

The bright verdant gaze tracked the wand with intelligent eyes and smiled when the bright green light exited the tip of the yew wand.

It was at that moment of time that the seconds seemed to slow to a crawl for the Dark Lord. His blood red eyes widened as the child offered him a slow smug, slightly vindictive smile; so out of place on the angelic face. For the first time in his fifty years, the Dark Lord felt fear and wondered for a moment whether he had been too hasty in acting out his decision. But it was only for a moment, since, the next moment he was consumed by agony; excruciating agony the likes of which he had never felt before. Not even when he had split his soul had he felt such suffering like he was feeling now. 

With one last final scream, the jagged soul tore itself from his body and hovered, looking in horror at the pile of ashes and burned wisps of cloth that lay scattered where he had been standing, not even a moment ago.

The dark smoky form of the Dark Lord turned his now hate-filled gaze on the unconscious form of the child that lay inside the crib with a bleeding lightning bolt scar on its forehead.

With a final piercing enraged cry, the spirit of Dark Lord Voldemort flew out of the ruined cottage in Godric's Hollow and made his way to the one place he had felt safe.

The Dark Forests of Albania.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Hope you liked the short chapter. So, I really admire Voldemort's determination and perseverance which prompted me to write this chapter. Really, 13 years of exile and yet he doesn't give up. (although I suppose that could be attributed to Voldie's wee bit of craziness. **:D** ) Seriously, that's ambition at its highest.


End file.
